I

not, understand. I am glad of it, for we drove them off single-handed. wish I had been a sailor. The fleets at Gibraltar and off Cadiz are, I think, verry easy. Hardcastle, the agent of the packet, says he will have the packets better protected; indeed, that is verry necessary, or there will not verry many reach Malta if they are to be fired at as the Cornwallis' was. A good breeze is a verry desirable thing; otherwise, unless you have good war implements, you are sure to be took.

"In the present situation of affairs the American ships make short voyages. If they are, as may be said, fortunate enough to be took, the cargo is condemned and the ship set at liberty, which goes to Malaga and is chartered and takes in wines, etc.; makes a short voyage, and returns quick. The Felicity,' Captain William Boyd, arrived safe at Gibraltar when he had escaped the greatest difficulty, which is passing through the Gutt. He afterward went to Algiziras, and the day he sailed from there a boat was seen off Gibraltar which had the appearance of a shipping boat, etc.; and the same, not being what she seemed, had the genteel politeness to convey him safe back to Algiziras, if not within gun-shott of the British flag, yet it could not be beyond sight of our English commander on board in the Bay of Gibraltar, etc.

'There was much talk when we landed, and much rejoicing since, over a victory we gained a little time back in the island of Sicily over the French forces at Mada" (Maida ?). "The English landed in Calabria, and began to march into the island where the Frenchmen are. The French general boasted much, they say, that they would drive us right back into the sea; but we met them under Stewart, and beat them easy at point of bayonett. The Frenchmen charged at our battalions verry bold, but when they saw we was ready to receive them and did not budge an inch, they stopped dead when they was only some yards from us, and turned tail and ran. We rejoice to hear the great slaughter of the Frenchies; we did not lose many men, as we was never properly attacked.

"The first night I slept at Gibraltar the gnats bit me so that I could not

"We sailed from Gibraltar on Thursday noon, July 31st, with light wind; and on Friday we met with two strange sail which we thought had the appearance of an enemy, so we fired one shott well directed as a signal for them to show their colors; but as it did not have the desired effect we fired another, which we could see struck one of them. They then hoisted an English flag and fired a gun without a shott; this had a mighty deceptive appearance. If it had been allowed, the captain would have made them come to him, as we concluded that it was a Spainish privateer with a prize in tow. The packet must defend herself as much as possible, but is not allowed to cruize, etc. We was all much disappointed that we was not permitted to engage them, for we was quite ready. It is a pity that the packet is not allowed to do as much damage as possible to the enemy, and I think we could have took them easy.

We

"On Saturday, August 2nd, we met about forty sail of merchantmen, etc., keeping together for safety, at about eight o'clock at night; and at eleven a privateer, which we suppose had followed the fleet in order to pick up any straggling ship, came toward us. was soon all ready for her; got the lanthorns lighted, the magazine open, etc.; and when we was all prepared she sailed away without firing a single shott. I suspect she had an opportunity of seeing by our lanthorns that we was too well equipped for her to do any good with us, and therefore thought it best to be quiet, for which I was verry sorry, although at night it is dangerous having powder about by candlelight. The captain cautioned them to be particular careful below with the powder. I told him that he might depend upon me to see that the powder was properly served,

which was my station in the former engagement we had had.

The remaining part of the way we came without speaking any ship, although we had many different sail in view. We had a deal of calm weather, contrary winds, etc., and was three weeks in coming from Gibraltar to Malta. We saw Majorca and Minorca : these two islands would be verry useful to England, the latter one particular, it having an excellent harbour, and might open a trade with the Barbarians and Tunis. We likewise saw Tunis, which appeared a fine place with a good harbour for shipping: it is near to the famous town of Carthage, which was destroyed by the Romans before Christ.

We was within fifty miles of Malta on Monday morning, but did not arrive there till Wednesday night, August 20th, at eleven o'clock. At this season of the year the Mediterranean is subject to a deal of calm weather. Next morning the practique boat came to make enquiries where we came from, and for letters, and while on board they found two little boys who had brought us milk from the shore, and from whom I had bought about a quart and some eggs, mighty small. They flogged them verry heavy for having come to us during quarantine. As soon as the mail was delivered I went on shore to the city La Valetta Malta.'

15 knotts, which told us of a verry wonderful fulfillment of the prophecy in the person of Napolean Buonaparte, written in the book of Revelations, which indeed comes quite true as shewn below. It is a marvellous thing thus having the verry words of the Bible brought to pass in our days. The text was as follows, from the xiii. chapter of Revelations, and the first and eighteenth

verses:

"Verse 1. And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise out of the sea having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy.'

6

"Verse 18. Here is wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast for it is the number of a man; and his number is Six hundred threescore and six.'

"The chaplin told us that the Revelations was of course inspired by God, and was a true prophecy, and that the distance of time between then and now was as nought, and that every word in the 2 verses of his text pointed to the arch blasphemer, Napolean Buonaparte, for upon his horns are ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy. And let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast, and lo! putting opposite the alphabet the figures used in the Roman method of counting, and then adding those numbers indicated by the letters, the name Napolean Buonaparte shall count the number six hundred threescore and six, as indeed is shewn below.

B = C =

ABCDEFGHIKLMNOPQRSTU

K

=

ΙΟ

B

2

L =

20

U

110

30

40

50

60

70

=

80 R =

80

=

90

Τ

BUONAPARTE İ

= 100

5

666 the number of the beast.

"Now all this is verry wonderful, and Mr. Bell and a young lady from Naples and me all talked of it much as we walked home. I have not seen the young lady from Naples before; she is verry pretty, and niece to Mr. Cooper. Mr. Bell accompanied her from church -I believe the contrary road she would like to go best. Some people say she is fond of Mr. Bell, but I do not know; it would be a good thing for him, as she has a good sum of money to her fortune. Mr. Bell would have bought her some ear-rings of the fine silver wirework in the Strada St Giovanni, but she would not permit him to spend money on the Sabbath. She is religious according to the Method views.

"To-night we have received the news of peace between England and France (offensive and defensive), each nation

to keep what they have obtained, sword in hand, and a free trade for each to every place. This is verry pleasing news if we have a free commerce."

Here, with this queer jumble of prophecy (dependent upon mis-spelling), gossip, sermons, and commercial aspirations, we will leave the good fellow, who for two years longer remained in Italy, Sicily, and the Mediterranean. His notes, always amusing and graphic, grow less frequent as business affairs press more upon him and take up more of his time. These that have been given show what a life of adventure a traveller had in those times; and show, too, how strong was the patriotic feeling of the nation, not only among our soldiers and our sailors, but even in the breast of an obscure commercial traveller.Cornhill Magazine.

MANY a poet, painter, sculptor, and musician has had to pay dearly for the indiscriminate encomiums of his admirers. Indeed, they who minister to what beautifies our life are, by the very enthusiasm their art inspires, more subject than other human beings to the form of punishment attendant on exaggerated praise. We accept the services of those who are merely useful to mankind with less discussion. Deeds of heroism, practical scientific results, triumphs of industry and patience, need no apology, and provoke no detraction. We are content to benefit by them; and the debt we owe to the soldier, the discoverer, or the worker, is not discounted by the jealousies of rival schools and jarring sects. So narrow is the sectarian's vision, that to extol one type of excellence is very often to offend the susceptibilities of another: your praise of Wordsworth may exasperate the lover of Keats and Shelley; your delight in Mozart may ruffle the equanimity of a Wagnerian. Alas for the dignity of art and of its priesthood that it should be so! The chief sufferer in an æsthetic squabble is the very person who has the greatest claim on our forbearance and

our reverence. Between two wrangling schools an idol may fall to the ground, and the idol frequently breaks its neck, not from any fault of its own, but in expiation of the fanaticism of its votaries, and because exaggeration is one of those evils that carry their own antidote. Probably the explanation of this fact is to be found in the constitution of the human nature itself, in which the love of justice is inherent. Exaggerated. praise is a more aggressive form of injustice even than exaggerated blame; hence the swiftness of the attendant reaction.

No poet, ancient or modern, has had more indiscriminate praise lavished on him than Victor Hugo, even in France, the classic land of criticism. But, despite Goethe's dictum that a poet must necessarily end by becoming a critic, France is still what she was in the days of Dryden, as much superior to England in criticism as she is inferior in poetry. Therefore the praise lavished on him has never so outrun all measure in his own country as it has among those foreign disciples who habitually speak of him as that dearest and most mighty master." Their pæans have

rung as a war cry, have reached paroxysms of ecstatic fury, and have degenerated into spasmodic rapture and delirious raving. The writers of this school have never attempted to draw any distinction between the merits of Victor Hugo as a lyric poet, a satirist, a dramatist, a politician, or a moralist; they have taken no heed of his dawn, of the distance between his rise and his zenith, of the decline of his power, and of the darkening shadows of his long decadence. Such criticism would have found no listeners in France, where its originators would have been looked upon as fitting candidates for M. Charcot's ministrations; while in England zeal has so far overstepped the mark, that it has deterred many from seeking to discover for themselves the real quality of the genius, used as the pretext of so much rodomontade.

Must not he to whom such altars were raised (people not unnaturally asked themselves) be a false god? and to justify this question we have only to recall some of the raptures to which we have referred. Were it not for the sincerity for which we willingly give it credit, it might appear to us that the gush of this school has sought to exalt the very failings of its chief in sheer defence of its own defects, so pertinaciously have his weakest points been held up for our admiration. When we are told that "if the sense of stupefaction could become one with the sense of rapture, and find for itself utterance, or make for itself expression in words where judicial comment should be summed up and swallowed up in spiritual thanksgiving, this would be the mood and this the method in which, if in any, we might without over-much misgiving undertake at the present date to approach the work and the name of Victor Hugo,"-the date being the 80th year of the poet's life, and the poem La Réligion et les Réligions-we are perforce reminded that this is one of those monuments of his decadence over which time, with a more reverent hand than his reviewers', must in due course draw a veil. Personally, the deference inspired by our gratitude to the poet to whom we owe the Odes et Ballades, the Légende des Siècles, and the Châtimens, would almost make us wish, for love of his memory, that this

time were come, were it not that we should no longer be here ourselves. Fortunately, thanks to M. Renan, a vision has been vouchsafed to us of Victor Hugo's reception by his peers and predecessors on his arrival at the Elysian Fields.

Therefore we take comfort in the reflection that in that place the wicked must perforce cease not only from troubling but from twaddling, and that no blasphemer may trouble its august repose by praise bearing a provoking family likeness to his twin-brother, derision. When, further, we are told that the very shadow of this man's presence is a sunbeam of very light indeed,' are we not irresistibly reminded that, although France has basked in those sunbeams for nearly threescore years, she has not been so blinded by them as to mistake the one for the other, the shadow for either the sunbeam or the substance?

It is, therefore, with no small measure of relief that, in turning over the pages of the Revue des Deux Mondes, unquestionably the first magazine of the age, an oracle worthy (to borrow Victor Hugo's phraseology) of the "capital of the world," that we light upon the calm, dispassionate, and yet adequate comment of one of its most distinguished ornaments, M. Ferdinand Brunetière. M. Brunetière is pre-eminent among his contemporaries by right of erudition, and an acumen that lends a singular authority to his judgment. He is not only a competent critic of whatever subject he tackles, but his writing, in its vigorous seventeenth-century form, never fails to give us the impression of a width of vision peculiar to the scholar who has drunk deep of the knowledge of all nations and epochs. There appears to be no terra incognita in the field of his researches ; he is not merely an admirable judge of whatever he discusses, but of anything to which he or his reader may choose to compare the subject of his discussion. It may well be said of him that he not only knows his own ground thoroughly, but all his surroundings, and that he is neither the dupe of men nor of words, of fashions nor of reputations; he goes straight to the heart of things, without respect of persons or circumstances; and it is this master